CATHERINE GEORGE - Under the Brazilian Sun

He sat down beside her. ‘You must not work too long without taking a break. Jorge will fetch you when lunch is ready.’

‘I won’t be able to face a meal in the middle of the day,’ she warned.

‘You must eat for energy. A small sandwich, at least,’ he said firmly. ‘I will join you here at one.’ He looked up as Jorge returned. ‘All is ready?’

‘Sim, senhor.’

Katherine found that the summerhouse had already been dusted and swept, and a second table brought in to hold a tray with glasses and bottled water in an ice bucket, also a large metal bell with a wooden handle and a thick brown blanket.

Katherine positioned the blanket where the light was brightest and Roberto laid the painting down on it. He stood back, his eyes on her face as she subjected the painted face to a close scrutiny.

Katherine took her time, her excitement mounting. He looked familiar. Could she possibly be right about the artist?

She turned to smile absently at Roberto. ‘Right. I’ll make a start now.’

He smiled wryly. ‘You wish me to leave you to your detecting, nao e ?’ He touched the bell. ‘Ring if you need anything. Jorge will come. I shall see you at lunch.’

Alone with the portrait at last, Katherine took off the spectacles to peer through her magnifying glass. ‘Right, young sir. Time for your close up.’

She went over every inch of the painting, then took a photograph to record its original state. Her instinct was screaming at her to start cleaning, but she doggedly kept to her usual routine. Once she’d taken everything she needed from her box, she pulled on a builder’s mask and her binocular headband, drew in a deep breath and moistened the first cotton bud with white spirit.

KATHERINE could have sworn that only minutes had passed when Roberto himself arrived to say lunch awaited her on the veranda, by which time the bin liner at Katherine’s feet was piling up with swabs and she was in no mood to break off to eat. But she smiled politely and straightened her back as she exchanged the binocular lenses for her spectacles, aware of his obvious disappointment that she had so little to show for her labours.

‘I’m just taking off the dirt. You’ll only see a difference when I get to the overpaint.’

‘I did not expect him to look worse than before,’ he admitted.

‘I look worse, too,’ she said ruefully as they walked back to the house. ‘I need a scrub.’

‘I shall wait on the varanda ,’ Roberto said. ‘There is no hurry.’

‘Yes, there is,’ she contradicted. ‘I must get back to work.’

His lips twitched. ‘You enjoy your detecting so much?’

‘I do.’ She could have added that in this case it was almost unbearably exciting, but said nothing in case she was wrong.

Over lunch, Roberto told Katherine that he would be out for most of the following day. ‘Be sure to stop and rest often. I shall tell Lidia to see to this.’

‘Oh, I will,’ she assured him.

‘Have you any thoughts yet about the hand that painted our young man?’ Roberto asked, filling their coffee cups.

‘At this stage it’s hard to tell. After I’ve cleaned the canvas I’ll remove some of the overpaint to look for signature brush strokes. They function like fingerprints to identify the painter. But I’ll only do enough to form an opinion. If the painting is valuable I’ll leave the rest to the restorer James uses most, a lady with the necessary experience. Unless there is someone else you have in mind, of course.’

‘I have not. It was my intention to leave all in Senhor Massey’s hands. But I would trust you to do all, Dr Lister,’ he added with formality.

That was a relief! ‘It’s very kind of you, but I’m an art historian, not a professional restorer. Besides, I can’t stay here that long.’

‘You are so eager to return to England? You have a lover waiting there for you?’ His eyes gleamed as colour rose in her face at the sudden descent into the personal.

‘I have a friend , yes. But I was referring to my job,’ she said frostily.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I am sure Mr Massey would allow you to stay if I asked.’

Katherine finished her coffee and stood up. ‘That’s up to him.’

‘If he agreed, it would cause problems in your private life if you stay here?’ Roberto got up more slowly, jaw clenched at the effort.

‘None at all.’ None that mattered compared to the painting, anyway. She looked at her watch. ‘Time I got back to work. I’ll just run up to my room for my laptop.’

‘I shall see you at dinner. I will not walk with you to the estufa because I know well I am too slow for you,’ he said sardonically.

Guilty because he was right, Katherine managed a smile. ‘I’ll look forward to reporting to you at dinner.’

Not as much as I shall, thought Roberto, as he watched her racing up the stairs. His initial hostility towards her was receding rapidly, leaving him with a growing desire to know the efficient Dr Katherine Lister better. The Quinta was a beautiful, peaceful haven, but lonely. He smiled bitterly as he limped back to his rooms. At one time he had longed for privacy and time to himself. His mother had told him many times to be careful what he wished for in case the wish was granted. And, as always, she was right. He would gladly pay James Massey whatever he asked for more of Katherine’s time, if only to look forward to conversation with her over dinner. She was a rare type of woman in his experience, expert in the subject which interested him so greatly. And if his scar repelled her she hid it well. He smiled a little. It was unusual to meet a woman who made no effort to use her physical assets to attract him—a novelty compared to the old days. And she had obviously never heard of him, though this was not surprising. His career had been cut short before it reached the heights once hoped for.

Katherine remembered to have a word with Lidia on her way out again, and learned that there was a bathroom on the ground floor for visitors, which would be kept for her sole use during her stay.

‘Perfeito!’ Katherine said, smiling, having looked the word up in the pocket dictionary acquired for the trip. She settled down to work with new zest now the first stage of cleaning was over.

With a canvas in dirtier condition Katherine would have repeated the cleaning process, but due to the time factor she moved straight on to the next stage. Beginning on a section on the subject’s coat, she set down a piece of card with a small window cut in it, then dipped a cotton wool bud in acetone and set to work within the aperture. The effect was electrifying. The overpaint had obviously been applied well within the past fifty years or so because it dissolved like magic within the tiny frame, revealing much lighter pigment underneath. Katherine went on moving the cardboard frame fraction by fraction, applying acetone as she went, and then took a photograph to email to James for his verdict, and sat back in one of the chairs for a break.

James rang her almost at once. ‘You are having an interesting time. That’s genuine eighteenth century pigment by the look of it. But ten to one you’re going to find damage somewhere. Ask de Sousa whether you should carry on.’

‘He’s already talking about my staying on here to do that, if you’re agreeable.’

‘Is he now?’ There was a pause. ‘As a matter of interest, how old is he, and is there a Senhora de Sousa?’

‘He’s thirty-something, and if there is a wife she doesn’t live here. Bye for now.’

A shadow fell over the steps as she disconnected and Katherine turned, to find Roberto watching her.

‘ Perdoa-me , it was not my intention to listen, but—’

‘You heard what I said.’ Her face heated.

He nodded. ‘Your lover is jealous that you are living in my house?’

‘I was talking to James Massey!’

His face relaxed slightly. ‘Your employer was asking about me?’

‘Yes. Sorry about that.’

‘ Por que? It is natural he feels responsible for you.’ Roberto turned as Jorge arrived with a tray. ‘I shall join you here for tea.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘And check on what I’ve been doing?’

‘ Exatamente ,’ he agreed.

‘It’s not a lot. I go very carefully at this stage.’

Roberto leaned to inspect the small area she indicated. ‘You photographed only this small section?’ he said, astonished, and sat down next to her to look over her shoulder. ‘I can see that the paint is lighter there. That is important?’

‘Crucial. James agrees that it looks like genuine eighteenth century pigment.’ Katherine filled both cups as she began. ‘So do you wish to ship the painting to James’s restorer right away, or shall I carry on until I have a clearer idea of what’s under the overpaint before you send it away for repair?’

‘Repair?’ he said sharply.

She nodded. ‘There may be damage of some kind, rips in the canvas, even holes.’

Roberto blenched. ‘ Deus! If so, is repair possible?’

‘Oh, yes. The restorer James uses is a miracle worker.’

‘But if you remove this overpaint, Katherine, could you then give your opinion on the artist?’

‘I could probably do that much, yes. But it would just be an opinion,’ she warned. ‘So do you wish me to carry on?’

‘Yes. It would please me very much if you continue until our young man is revealed in his true colours. Further decisions can be left until then.’ Roberto got up. ‘I shall leave you to your detective work.’ He turned at the top of the steps. ‘When your Mr Massey rings again, tell him the only Senhora de Sousa in my life is my mother. I once had a wife for a short time many years ago it is true, but alas no longer.’

Katherine winced. ‘I’m so sorry—’

‘No, you mistake me,’ he said coolly. ‘Mariana is not dead. She divorced me.’ His eyes locked on hers. ‘Also tell Mr Massey that you are safe here. No harm will come to you in my house.’

Face still hot after he left, she found it hard for a while to resume her usual concentration. Next time James rang she would make sure no one was in earshot. But, to her intense annoyance, it was Andrew who rang a few minutes later.

‘Why the hell haven’t you called me, Katherine?’ he demanded. ‘Surely you knew I would be worried?’

‘I texted to say I’d arrived—’

‘Then obviously forgot all about me!’

‘You could have rung me if you were that concerned.’

‘It was your place to ring me , Katherine, in the circumstances. You took off with barely a word of apology about spoiling the trip to Glyndebourne!’

She gritted her teeth. ‘For heaven’s sake, Andrew, James was ill and needed me to take his place. It was an emergency! We can go to Glyndebourne any time.’

‘I see,’ he said stiffly. ‘James is obviously far more important to you than I am.’

Enough, thought Katherine. ‘I haven’t got time for this—’

‘No! Please. Don’t ring off,’ he broke in, his tone suddenly conciliatory. ‘I’m sorry, darling—’

‘Can’t talk any more now; I must get on. Bye.’ Before he could interrupt again, she switched off her phone.

Katherine felt so annoyed it took a while to get back into her groove again, but at last she began working at her usual speed, until a combination of fading light and a message from Roberto via Jorge brought her to a halt.

‘Senhor Roberto says perhaps finish now, Doutora ,’ said the man tactfully.